


Mens Rea

by AVeryConfusedGinger



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood mentioned, Death, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), F/F, Implied Relationships, murder mentioned, nothing major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 12:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12959163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVeryConfusedGinger/pseuds/AVeryConfusedGinger
Summary: Fara often had to remind herself that she was no murderer. She never killed for pleasure or sport; she hunted in the name of survival. It was not murder — was it? How do you define murder?





	Mens Rea

There has always been something so _curious_ about reality; the idea that, despite being inscribed into the cold stone of time, the truth always seemed to hurt. Like a fresh blade, still hot from the forge, carving fate into flesh. Blood fading in the smooth lines, the stench of iron overwhelmingly thick. She nearly retched. Luckily the elf had enough strength left to restrain herself, forcing her gaze towards the stars. The stars never hurt.

 _Hypocrite_. She had killed before. Many times, actually. Her soul was hardly an innocent one; for how many souls had she torn from the bodies of men and women, in favor of her own? Countless arrows lodged into the skulls of her prey, her dagger stained with dried blood that she had yet to cleanse. The Gods surely frowned upon her; she could almost hear their disappointment in the harsh breeze, the chill of the night — but what was she to do?

Why was she scared?

Fara often had to remind herself that she was no murderer. She never killed for pleasure or sport; she hunted in the name of survival. It was not murder — was it? How do you define murder?

She prayed that the Gods would grant her this one mercy, to let her ignorance and naiveté reign.

Taking a breath, pleading for her heart to steady it’s hammering beat, her eyes traveled towards her lover. There was a certain _look_ in the Dunmer's eyes — it was hardly pity. Nor was it harsh in nature; no, it was a sense of understanding ( this was a delicate situation for Fara, that was understood ), yet it was a reminder that they played a dangerous game. Death was a given; there can be no hesitation, no mercy. But her heart felt the need to object — _there is always another way! Death does not have to be the only option—_

But it was silenced with a single breath. Hardened like rock, thick and jagged at every edge. She no longer felt the need to weep; rather, she took to readjusting her quiver.

The corpse stank of blood and raw sweat, his — is it a he, anymore? Was a body still a person, even without its soul? — his eyes stared blankly, mouth agape. It almost appeared as if he were satisfied. Perhaps he was. Fara wondered if death was more of a mercy then a cruelty.

“We should go,” The Bosmer whispered, her gaze shifting away. It was a quiet night and she was certain that the guards would be making their rounds soon. “Perhaps the Guards will assume it was a brawl that got a bit out of hand. Happens all the time. Come. They’re waiting for us.”

The moons seemed to mock them as they slipped into the bitter night, leaving behind a rotting corpse and a fragile innocence.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of writing I've published on this site. Hooray! As such, I'm still learning my way around formatting, tags, and all of those goodies. So if something seems off, please don't hesitate to let me know. 
> 
> I'm contemplating whether I should post more work in a series about Fara and her adventures. Let me know what you think. :)


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